Life in Prison
by M.M. Vestal
Summary: Several years ago, I found myself stuck in a cell with Sirius Black. I spent three years in that tiny, dirty room getting to know the most notorious murderer of our time. Here is my story.
1. Captured!

Author's Note: Some of you may recognize bits and pieces of this chapter. This story used to be called "Guilty Until Proven Innocent," but I've rewritten the entire thing and the titled no longer fits. So there you have it. Constructive criticism only, please! Enjoy and review.

Chapter 1 – Captured!

The last time I checked, Sirius Black was a murdering traitor. What the hell was he doing walking around Diagon Alley?

I watched as the infamous murderer slowly made his way up the street passing snow covered shops to stop in front of Quidditch Supply. With one hand pressed against the window and his forehead inches from the glass, his breath swirled around his face before sticking to the transparent surface. A long, slender finger lazily drew squiggles and circles on the cloudy window absentmindedly. He continued to stare into the display case for another full minute before using his sleeve to wipe away the art he created.

Fascinated I watched as he turned and continued up the street, only twenty feet away from my spot in front of Marette's, a pub known most notably for its scantily clad barmaids. Gone was the curiosity that had previously frozen my steps, and it its place a knot of fear gathered in the pit of my stomach. I wiggled my toes nervously before casually turning away from the convict and heading for the pub door. Seconds later, an arm reached around my back and long slender fingers grasped the handle. I froze in place and squeezed my eyes shut, not daring to move—almost for a second believing that if I kept my eyes closed he wouldn't see me. My pulse beat harshly in my chest as I waited, painfully aware of the prolonged silence.

"Ahem."

I weighed my chances of turning invisible in the next five seconds.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Damn. Wishful thinking. I slowly turned around, silently praying to the heavens to protect me from any bodily harm. I watched as he retracted his hand from clutching the handle behind me. My eyes slowly drifted up his arm to his shoulder before finally resting on his face. I sucked in a lung-full of air and exhaled shakily.

"Is there a problem?"

I meekly shook my head and continued to gawk at him. He was more attractive than I had imagined—nothing like his wanted poster. It was no wonder they never caught him.

"Would you mind moving a smidgen to the side, love? I can't seem to get past the brick wall you've put up." He smiled roguishly, his ebony hair falling haphazardly into his eyes.

"Ah, yes, sorry." I said quietly before stepping aside to let him pass. "My mistake."

He flashed me a wary smile before opening the door and stepping inside the smoke-filled pub. I let out the breath I was holding. He hadn't killed me. Thank Merlin for small miracles. Reaching into my jacket pocket I pulled out my cigs and lighter. Forgetting the promise I'd made to myself earlier that week, I lit up, sucked in a deep, shaky breath, and closed my eyes. I felt the familiar sensations of nicotine shoot through my body and sighed in relief. It had been too long, I thought, fondly sucking on the fag. I watched as the officials doused the fire lamps lining the street one by one until only the light shining through Marette's windows was visible.

I dropped my cigarette to the ground before stomping my foot on it, grinding it into the dirty snow. Turning around I walked back into the dimly lit pub and headed towards the bar, conscientiously avoiding the back of the room where I suspected he'd been seated. Once I reached the bar, I shed my coat and draped it over a chair before signing the logbook. I glanced up to check my reflection in the mirror. My cropped brown hair was wind swept and my cheeks were a fiery red from the cold outside. I ran my fingers through my hair as I headed over to the host's stand in front of the door.

As a host, I didn't have to wear the regular uniform the rest of the barmaids had to wear. Their black little skirts and barely there vests were a _privilege_ that I had to _earn._ Personally, I would rather not look like a slag. As my mom would have said, "No job should require you to wear less clothing than you would when visiting your grandmother." My father on the other hand was a man of few words. He loved three things in life, his family, golfing, and sleeping, and he was very proficient in two of the three. Needless to say, he was a rather poor golfer. Despite his shortcomings, he was an excellent father. When I was nine, I wanted to be a dentist. Their little tools were the perfect size for my petite hands. When my dad discovered my passion for dental hygiene, he took me to visit his dentist for an entire day. He missed an entire day of work just for me. He always thought I'd do great things. So far, all I've amounted to is a hostess, and a pretty bad one at that.

When he and mom died when I was fifteen, I was left with a pretty large life insurance check. I had no clue they had even filed for one of those. I took the money that was left and bought an airline ticket from Columbus to New York to London. One way. I just wanted to get rid of the hurt and leave the pain and death behind me. But what I found was something wild and amazing. I found _magic_.

I suppose you could say that I stumbled across magic in a most peculiar way. I was job hunting on King Street when I saw a man, dressed in what I now know to be a cloak, disappear into thin air in between a large bookstore and a sweets shop. Not believing my eyes, I walked towards the empty space and stuck my hand into the opening. It disappeared just like the man. I'm ashamed to admit that I let out a horrible scream and tumbled into the opening headfirst. Unbeknownst to me, it was just my luck that I happened to fall right on top of the Minister of Magic. He offered to help me up and we got to talking. He asked me about my job-hunting, and I asked him about magic. He helped me apply at the unemployment offices in Diagon Alley, and I explained to him the exact function of a rubber chicken. Eventually I found myself a suitable apartment just several blocks away from Marette's, where I ended up getting a job. So there I was, a muggle in Diagon Alley. Who would have thought? Although, I had to admit, a muggle in Diagon Alley was a little bit more reasonable than Sirius Black in Diagon Alley. Why hadn't anyone arrested him yet? I darted a nervous look over my shoulder towards the back of the room. There he was sitting in the corner by the fire drinking a mug of ale.

The bell jingled signaling that a customer had arrived. I turned around and faced the door with a fake smile plastered on my face. I was immediately taken aback. The biggest man I had ever seen walked through the door. Over nine feet tall and many feet wide, this man was exactly what I would have pictured a giant to be, but seeing as I had never actually _seen_ a giant, I kept my mouth shut for fear of offending him. He smiled at me and pointed to the back of the pub, signaling that the rest of his party was already there. I watched as he carefully ducked his head to keep from hitting it on the ceiling as he walked to the back of the room and took a seat at Sirius Black's table.

Having nothing else to do, I watched for several minutes as the two odd men conversed in what I assumed to be hushed tones. I snapped out of my daze when I noticed they were both looking at me looking at them. Embarrassed, I ducked my head and busied myself with straightening out the menus. I chanced a look up and saw that the large man had gone back to talking, but Black was still looking at me. I returned his gaze until he ducked his head and focused his attention on the large man.

I shook my head and went back to work.

Several days later, stepping outside my flat, I found it was a sunny, beautiful day in downtown London for once, and I was going to make the most of it. I whistled in tune to the music blaring from a boom box hiked up on the shoulder of a rough looking youth. Across the street, standing on the corner of Kensington and Berber, a group of teens beat boxed to the music. As I ambled down the street, fragments of their lyrics drifted towards me.

_Here we go we'll start right now_

_Follow me I think you know how_

_Remember you're a vital part_

_Keep it real, straight from the heart_

_Leep bop doom ba doom doom_

I nodded my head in beat with the rhythm before continuing on down the street, stopping every once and a while to pick the dandelions lining the sidewalk. I let my mind wander, as it was likely to do, and set my body on autopilot. I wondered briefly where Sirius Black might be at that very moment, and whether he had really massacred Peter Pettigrew. I had heard all the gruesome details from Marette, but he seemed more interested in how only a finger was left of Peter than in telling me the whole story from the beginning. Why did Black kill him, and how did he escape from the wizarding prison? I'd heard that Azkaban was impossible to be broken out of. Did he have help?

Dark questions stirred in my mind in contrast to my bright, happy surroundings. I continued to ponder the mystery as I slipped into the Leaky Cauldron unnoticed by other muggles. Almost immediately I sensed something was wrong. The air smelled sickeningly sweet and hung in damp clouds around the lit candles scattered throughout the room. The pub was empty with chairs and tables overturned and shattered bottles laying in pieces on the ground. The room was in a state of disarray like I had never seen before. I quickly walked to the back of the building and stood in the alley facing a great brick wall. The putrid sweet smell was stronger near the bricks.

I stood staring at the wall for several minutes wondering how I was going to get in without Tom when the wall shuttered and the bricks fell into place to create an arch. Standing before me were several men dressed in black robes and wearing white masks. Terrified, I stood completely still until one of them grabbed me by my neck and pulled me flush against his body. He smelled of cigar smoke and sweat. Without a word, he raised his wand and pointed it at my wrists, muttering a faint incantation. He did the same with my ankles before pointing his wand between my eyes and whispering another spell. All went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a shoddy-looking room still tied up, only this time I was bound to another person. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came ringing from my open lips. I took a deep breath to try again.

"It won't work."

I swiveled around to stare at the figure leaning against the barred window, his face shadowed. His straight white teeth were the only things visible in the dark. He grinned at me wickedly before stepping out from the cover of the shadow. He features were harsh. A long, straight nose and sharp cheekbones were crowded on his handsome face, while bright blue eyes contrasted his midnight black hair. His robes were of the finest material and his shoes glistened in the moonlight spilling from the now clear sky. He sauntered towards me, his robes billowing in a non-existing wind. He leaned down and touched his fingertips to my lips.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asked laughing a deep, mirthless laugh. "Maybe I can help you out with that."

He flicked his wand and my vocal chords restricted before returning to their normal size. I cleared my throat, relieved that I could make noises again. Nobody had ever cast a spell on me before. I felt so powerless. I licked my dry lips before opening my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted by a moan.

"Mmmhhmm."

I twisted my head as far as I could without snapping something out of place, but couldn't see the person behind me. The dark man crossed behind me to get a look at the other prisoner. I heard him mutter something under his breath before the moaner jerked awake.

"Ahh. There we go, traitor. Have a nice kip?" He laughed his harsh laugh again.

"You bastard. You sick, twisted arsehole. What have you done?"

The man smirked before casting a look in my direction. "Nothing…yet."

As if noticing my presence for the first time, the man tied to my back twisted his head around to look at me. Turning my head to match his, I got my first look at my cellmate. It was none other than the man I had been speculating about hours before. Sirius Black's dark eyes pierced mine before they flashed in recognition and then horror. The last thing I saw was a wand pointed at my face before a flash of light once more enveloped my consciousness.


	2. The First Year: Our Initial Meeting

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I had it written, but I was so completely occupied with reading this new series I stumbled on (_A Great and Terrible Beauty_ and _Rebel Angels_ by Libba Bray – GO OUT AND GET THIS AT YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY NOW!!! AMAZING!!!) that I had no time to be fooling around with editing this chapter. I hope this answers some of your questions about the first chapter!

On a side note, I guess I should clear up a few things. This story is set during Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts. Some of you have asked how a story spanning three years can still remain cannon after the first year (Harry's fifth). I had hoped to keep this secret until the very end because it's a HUGE plot twist…I'm still deciding. But until I've decided whether or not to tell you, please just keep in mind that it is Harry's fifth year and YES this will remain in cannon the entire three years. (I know, I can hear the shouting already…what about the VEIL?! Just be patient. The Veil will be revealed!!) The only hint I'll give you is this: I didn't say when in Harry's fifth year this is taking place. Speculate all you want. I'm interested to hear what guesses you'll come up with. Be creative!! Ok, enough rambling. On with the story. Enjoy and review.

Chapter 2 – The First Year: Our Initial Meeting

When the world finally stopped spinning, I hesitantly cracked my eyes wide enough to see that the dark room was empty except for me and the mass murderer. I stretched my arms above my head and yawned, looking very much like a cat awakening from a midday nap. Abruptly, I realized that I was no longer bound to the chair. Curious. I had always assumed kidnapping meant bound hands and a gagged mouth for the duration of the stay. Evidently not. I rose from the chair and walked toward the door of the cell and pulled. Locked. I hadn't really expected it to be open. I walked to the barred window and peaked out trying to familiarize myself with my surroundings.

Through the opening in the wall, I was able to see a sandy beach with crashing white waves about a kilometer ahead. Directly under the window and three stories down was an orchard of some kind. And on the horizon, I could see the hulking shape of a boat heading north. I sighed before turning back to the darkened room. Sirius Black was still sleeping silently on his chair while his eyes moved relentlessly behind his sunken eyelids. Relief trembled through my body. I still had some time to think of a way out of this mess before he woke. If I was lucky, I wouldn't be around for him to kill me.

I cast a look around the room trying to find something that would prove useful in my escape. In the corner of the room was a pile of clothes covered in dust and mites. I crossed the room to collect them. As I picked up the scarf on the floor, I noticed a weight tangled in the fabric. I carried it to the window to see clearly. The light reflected softly off a grinning skull. I let out a short scream. Horrified, I dropped the offending item and furiously rubbed my hands on my pants, breathing hard, my heart racing. My head snapped up in alert when I heard the scraping of a chair. I watched as the only other occupant in the room shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck.

My eyes widened as he trudged slowly towards me with a curious look on his face. He bent down and picked up the skull, looking at it in confusion. I shrugged. He tossed it into a corner before glancing out the window. "It's a long way down." I supplied. "Too far to climb."

He nodded his head and turned his back to me. I couldn't see his face, but his shoulders stiffened as he walked quickly to the door and yanked on the handle. I started hesitantly, "I already tried that. It won't budge." He yanked harder one last time before giving up and slumping against the door defeated. He slid to the floor and sat quietly for several minutes before turning to me.

"Any idea on how we're going to get out of this?"

I answered him with a blank stare. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence that they accidentally captured _the_ Sirius Black. His warrant had been around town for years. Nobody could miss him with his long black hair and dead eyes. His question must have been rhetorical because he didn't look at me to answer so I shrugged. We sat in silence for the next few hours. What was there to say? Locked in a cell with Voldemort's right hand man put a slight damper on most topics. And I don't think he had any indication of speaking to me for the duration of our time together. Which was fine with me. The less he said and the less attention I called to myself the better. The minutes and hours ticked by in agony. Tense and anxious, always waiting for _something_ to happen (at this point good or bad, anything would have been a relief), I sat fidgeting with the sleeve of my long-sleeved shirt.

Our silence was broken when the most extraordinary thing happened. A transparent figure walked, or rather, floated through the door, straight through Sirius before coming to a stop in the middle of the room. Sirius shuddered. A young girl, probably no older than seven or eight, with a long dress falling past her dangling feet, hovered in midair. Her face was devoid of any features, almost as if someone had taken an eraser to her eyes, lips, and nose. She stood silently for several minutes before turning her head to me. "You are to follow me. The master of the house awaits your arrival in the parlor. Come." I stared at her, wondering where her voice was coming from.

She floated once again through Sirius, then through the door, disappearing completely from view. I followed quickly before realizing that I could not float through the door myself. I stood above Sirius contemplating my next move. She must have noticed the lack of my presence because the door clicked noisily before Sirius was shoved away from the door. It creaked open. Looking over my shoulder at my cellmate, I felt a tiny flicker of fear at leaving the only familiar companion I had. The door swung shut and locked behind me as I followed the ghost silently down the long hall adorned with moving portraits and wall tapestries. I felt like I was walking to my death, and in all likelihood, I probably was.


	3. A Foggy Future

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Some of you may have noticed the rather short length of these chapters. I'm trying out something new here. In other stories, I've found that when the main action is not taking place, I get a bit bored and start writing random, not-really-related banter between characters. This usually brings the quality of the story down several notches. In an attempt to stop this annoying habit, I'm keeping the chapters short and sweet…Just telling you readers what you need to know. When I've finished the story, I may go back and write "between the moments" scenes, but you'll all just have to wait for that I'm afraid.

In other related news, you'll discover a cliffhanger at the end of this chapter. I'm **warning anyone under the age of 17** now that there will be slightly **mature/sexual content at the end of this chapter**. As a warning to all readers, this story _will_ contain sexual content—nothing too explicit—but necessary nonetheless. I will try to warn you before each occurrence, but stand warned—a major part of the plot is driven by the curious nature of these carnal urges. Ok now, go enjoy! Don't forget to review!

Chapter Three: A Foggy Future

I followed the faceless girl down the carpeted hall; the quiet rustle of her dress muffled my heavy footsteps. The long corridor was uncomfortably warm, thanks, in part, to the heavy tapestries lining the stone walls. Distracted, I wondered if it was still Spring. The warm walk to Diagon Alley felt like months ago instead of days. I couldn't witness the weather outside first hand because the hall lacked any windows. Instead, polished wooden doors occasionally interrupted the pattern of wall hangings. The hushed creaks of the floorboards amplified the silence of the old manor. Things were eerily quiet for such a large house. Where were the servants? Did this girl's master only employ ghosts? I pondered these questions as we passed the muted doors.

Before long, we came to a stop in front of an ornate door. Flowers of varying species carved an intricate pattern among the sea of mahogany. The door handle was solid gold, but tarnished irreparably. The ghostly figure floated through, leaving me standing in the hallway to stare stupidly at the door. I twisted my hands behind my back as thirty seconds lapsed into a full minute. I debated knocking and even had my hand raised in a fist inches from the door when it opened slowly from within. I entered.

The room was dark, a single candelabra provided the only light, casting deep shadows across the room. Devoid of any windows, the room housed only one fireplace, which stood empty and cold. At first, I surmised no other occupants in the room, not even the ghostly girl. But a brief flicker of movement near the fireplace alerted me to another presence. A figure draped in folded black material glided gracefully out of the shadows. I immediately recoiled as a wave of acidic odor lapped gently at my nostrils. I gagged—and then tried to cover my reaction with an unconvincing cough that sounded suspiciously like a sneeze. The shrouded figure muffled a laugh with his small, white hand.

"Please, take a seat." He snapped his fingers and two overstuffed chairs appeared. I sat hesitantly, trying to breathe through my mouth. "Do you know why you are here?"

"That depends—where is here?"

He laughed appreciatively before grandly gesturing around the room. "Why, you've transcended the Veil, my dear. Surely you must have realized that by now!"

I gave him a blank look. Veil? Could I have really passed through one and not noticed? No. He must be playing evil villain mind games. He sent those goons to Diagon Alley for a reason and evidently that reason included me. Oh, and Sirius Black. I shook my head. "Why did you send Death Eaters after me then?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. Death…eaters, you say? Hmm, what an interesting idea. How does one _eat_ death, do you suppose?" He mused quietly for several seconds before snapping his fingers once more. Seconds later, another mysterious figure entered the room.

A beautiful girl of seventeen or eighteen pushed a covered tray to the center of the room, nudging the door shut with her foot as she passed. Her black hair curled around her elbows and long lengths of red lace disguised her lean figure. The cart rolled to a stop inches from my toes. I stared curiously at the lump beneath the velvet cover. With a practiced flourish, she lifted the cloth and revealed a swirling crystal ball. The man leaned forward to peer into the foggy depths of the ball.

"What do you see, Coraline?" He asked eagerly.

The young woman gazed into the mist and bit her lip hesitantly. She stared for a few moments before glancing at me quizzically. She parted her lips to speak. And oh, her voice! It was akin to the strumming of a mandolin. Her words hung, lilting and swirling in the air. "She is who we've been searching for, but her future is strangely unclear. Our world depends on one decision she has yet to make. The course of her action will determine everyone's fate."

The man waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, yes. That's fascinating, but are you certain _she_ is the one?"

"Yes. The future never lies, My Lord."

"Good. Good. You may take your leave." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Coraline covered the ball and wheeled the tray out of the room, not even pausing to glance in my direction. Would she return to her own house or did she live here, too? Was she a prisoner like myself? Were there others imprisoned within these walls? I returned to present company. The man sat motionless in his chair, gazing at me in a way that suggested he didn't really believe I was there. He looked at me in much the same way as a drunk who stares into a mirror and mistakes his reflection for another man. In the time it would have taken the drunk to discover his mistake, the man before me snapped back to attention. Clearly without any regard for the questions I had for him, he dismissed me from the room with a curt nod and a not entirely pleasant, "Please retire to your quarters."

At the door, I met up with the faceless girl again. She began her procession down the hall once more. I followed with questions swimming in my head. "Do you have a name?" I asked the girl.

She spoke without lips. "My name is Adela." The silence stretched. Finally, we reached the door to my room. She turned to me and spoke again. "My Lord wishes you and your companion a pleasant evening. He requests your company tomorrow evening in the dining room. Please inform Mr. Black of his expected attendance. Good evening." With that, she drifted back down the deserted hall.

I opened the door to find Sirius pacing the floor impatiently. He looked up as the door locked behind me. His eyes were strangely wild. In one short moment, he rushed to me and pulled me roughly into his arms, pining his heaving chest to my body. His lips crashed brutally against mine as his tongue forced its way through my startled lips. I felt an almost mechanical tug in the back of my mind and then suddenly a tingle began making its way down my body. Frightened and confused, I surged with need before pulling him flush against my gyrating pelvis, unsure of everything except the consuming desire I felt for his flesh.


End file.
